


The Great Frying Pan Schism

by Elenothar, norcumi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Concussions, Crack, Don't copy to another site, Found Family, GFY, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27350206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenothar/pseuds/Elenothar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: From a Tumblr post that got rather enthusiastically out of hand.Anakin and Ahsoka have decided enough is enough with this war, and that it's time to leave it all behind. They have allies, a place to go, and plans for a new Order.Now all they need is someone to run it. Kidnapping Obi-Wan shouldn't be TOO hard....
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Plo Koon, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, background T'ra Saa/Tholme (Star Wars), background eventual CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 62
Kudos: 416





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Back in late 2014, early 2015, a tumblr post started circulating (first posted by rosbridge [HERE](https://rosbridge.tumblr.com/post/103178654589/do-you-ever-wish-these-two-had-just-decided-to).) That led to [this exchange](https://hamelin-born.tumblr.com/post/110511750972/do-you-ever-wish-these-two-had-just-decided-to), from hamelin-born:  
>   
> Elenothar couldn't resist playing with the notion, then Norcumi jumped in, until finally there was this THING on the tumbls.
> 
> We've collected as much as we can find here for your convenience. The most current thread at the time of posting seems to be [here](https://jahaliel.tumblr.com/post/153596882050/do-you-ever-wish-these-two-had-just-decided-to), with several additions from others that Norcumi couldn't quite figure out how to readily add in to this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First posted by Elenothar on 9 February 2015.

Obi-Wan woke up slung over Anakin’s shoulder. Again. Vague images of Anakin looking apologetic flashed past his eyes and - 

“What _in the blazes_ do you think you’re doing?!”

“We’re kidnapping you,” Ahsoka said cheerfully from somewhere above his dangling right shoulder. “We’re going to build a new Temple and we need _someone_ with sense.”

“Hey, I’ve got sense,” Anakin protested indignantly, though very tellingly he neither refuted the kidnapping, nor the _new Temple_ bit _._

The former Obi-Wan could cope with, that happened every second week anyway, but the latter? Clearly the universe had gone mad.

Or alternatively, he’d finally gone and snapped after one too many blows to the head. Or was it Anakin who’d gone bonkers? He was so confused. His head hurt.

“Anakin,” he said, very slowly and deliberately (and noted with some satisfaction the slight hitch in Anakin’s step as he recognized the tone of voice), “did you hit me with Qui-Gon’s old frying pan?”

At least Anakin had the grace to emit a few sheepish vibes. “We needed something you wouldn’t register as a threat.”

“Couldn’t you just have _asked_?”

“Oh, and that would’ve been such a fun conversation,” Anakin said, uncommonly sarcastic. “Hey, Master, we think the Jedi Order has lost its way, wanna come build a new one? Oh, and please don’t tell the Council, which, incidentally, you are a member of?”

Obi-Wan thought for a moment. “Better than hitting me over the head with a frying pan.”

“Hey, it worked!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First posted by Norcumi on 10 February 2015.

“Oh poodoo. I thought you said the _Twilight_ would be here?” Ahsoka sounded more than a little worried as Anakin skidded to a halt.

“I sent Artoo to get it. He shouldn’t have had any sort of a problem!”

Obi-Wan finally pushed himself upright enough that he was braced against Anakin’s back rather than draped over it like a rather lumpy cloak. His eyes weren’t focusing quite right, but they looked to be in one of the older, more obscure hangers in the temple. There were rows and rows of mothballed ‘fighters and shuttles, save for a mid-sized transport tucked near the exit. 

“Ex…cuse me, Generals? Commander." 

Obi-Wan bit back a groan, squeezing his eyes shut as Anakin whipped around to face what had looked to be a small squad of clones, in the few seconds before the room had spun. 

"Commander Wolffe,” Anakin growled back, and Obi-Wan could only hope that his former padawan wasn’t going to be an idiot just because Wolffe and half the clones on Coruscant had been ordered to track down Ahsoka. It wasn’t like they’d had any say in the matter. 

“General Koon wanted us to inform you that the engines are hot and according to your ‘mech, we’re just waiting on one more passenger.”

There was a terrible pause, and Obi-Wan forced his eyes open to look at the Wolf Pack, assembled without helmets and hands conspicuously away from their blasters. 

Then fuckall if Anakin didn’t whip around _again_. “ARTOO!! Get out here RIGHT now!”

He groaned and clamped a hand over his eyes, since it was either that clamp over his mouth, and Obi-Wan disliked admitting the head injury was affecting him that much. He could hear Artoo’s wheels churring as the droid came over, then a defiant string of beeps he wasn’t in the mood to try to translate. 

“What?!” Ahsoka yelped, even as Anakin growled. 

“What do you mean, ‘you expanded mission parameters?’ How much did C-3PO coach you on that?”

There was an offended whistle that cut right through Obi-Wan’s brain. “Please not so loud. Or at least let me WALK on my own.”

Some clone cleared his throat, and Obi-Wan could tell that Anakin was caught between outrage at Artoo and resignation regarding…whatever it was that was going wrong. Then his padawan let him go, someone in trooper armor catching him and slinging an arm across their shoulders. “Easy there sir, I’ve got you.”

“Cody, can you either just shoot me, or Anakin, and call it a day?”

“Sorry sir, I don’t understand those orders.”

He bit back the snide, possibly foul response he wanted to make to his commander’s pretend ignorance. 

“WHY would you tell another Council member that—!”

Artoo warbled through Anakin’s shout, and from the transport a very exasperated Kel Dor presence emerged. “Skywalker, we do not have all day,” Plo called. “Our presence will be missed, possibly sooner rather than later, and I would rather be off planet and constructing this new order of yours BEFORE we have to deal with Mace having a bad day.”

“He told you?!”

“You have a very persuasive droid.”

“Oh he’s something alright,” Anakin muttered.

“Plo, I suspect you could be drier, but you cannot possibly mean what I think you mean.” Obi-Wan forced his eyes open, and his fellow council member crossed his arms and GRINNED that damned annoying way he had. “Oh _Force_ , you’re all serious.”

"Would someone like to tell me why we’re not ready to take off NOW?” The group turned to see Rex and a squad of the 501st escorting a furious looking Padmé Amidala into the hanger. She glared at Anakin. “Senatorial exceptions to air traffic control are only going to last so long, and we need to get moving!”

It was only a small relief that Anakin looked as flabbergasted as Obi-Wan felt. “Padmé? What are—?”

“Rex told me everything, Artoo has some good ideas, now let’s GO.”

In the wake of senatorial directives, the clones seemed quite happy to get a move on, leaving the bemused Jedi to trail along in their wake. 

“You didn’t plan this,” Obi-Wan accused Anakin, who grinned and shrugged with that mad look of one who knows improvising really is the best battle plan.

“No one can plan for Padmé. Are you really objecting?”

” _No_ , sir, he’s not.” Obi-Wan glared at Cody, then sighed and let himself be carried along.

 _Someone_ had to be the voice of reason in….whatever this was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First posted by Elenothar on 11 February 2015

Half an hour later, Obi-Wan’s Anakin-whacked-me-over-the-head headache had finally subsided (with some help of judiciously applied Force healing) and was now threatening to be replaced by a more common Force-help-me-I’m-surrounded-by-idiots headache. They were just about to clear Coruscant airspace and Padme and Anakin were _still_ arguing. 

“ - you let Artoo contact a Council member, Padme! Of course I’m upset, you could’ve sunk this whole enterprise before it even started! Besides Artoo doesn’t need any more bad influences in his life, he’s already starting to swear like Obi-Wan.”

Oh, now _that_ was just unfair. If anyone was a bad influence on that droid it was Anakin. Padme seemed to feel the same.

“Bad influence?” she said loudly, eyes sparkling dangerously. “Who was it who taught him that if things weren’t going well he should just blow everything up?”

“… Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but was saved from what was surely going to be a long and drawn-out argument about who had blown up more enemy bases in the last couple of years by the holotransceiver beeping on the twilight’s console.

Ahsoka squinted at the transceiver’s readout. “That’s the Jedi Council’s code, Master.”

“Oh great, just what we needed,” Anakin grumbled, ignoring Obi-Wan as he dropped his forehead into his palm.

He pressed a button and a translucent image of a very pissed Mace Windu appeared in front of them.

“Skywalker! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Anakin clearly wasn’t in the mood for explanations, or beating around the bush. “What _you_ ’ve been too afraid and too mired in politics to do, Master Windu. We’re going back to the roots of what it means to be a Jedi.”

To just about everyone’s surprise, Mace’s scowl lessened a fraction. “Do you think now is really the time to do this, Skywalker?”

Anakin shrugged. “Now is the only time to do it.”

He glanced at Obi-Wan, something mischievous lurking in his eyes that immediately made Obi-Wan suspicious. “Also, in future you should direct any complaints to our new Grandmaster, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

_What?_

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you can’t be serious.”

“Why not, Master? As Ahsoka said, we need someone sensible to lead us, and Plo didn’t want the job.”

Obi-Wan glared at him. “I don’t want the job either!”

Anakin’s look turned slightly pleading as he silently sent ’ _can we please talk about this some other time, Master?’_

Obi-Wan scowled, but subsided.

“Kenobi?” Mace’s eyes were in serious danger of bugging out of his head. “What are _you_ doing on this crazy enterprise?”

“Oh, don’t look at me,” Obi-Wan responded dryly. “Someone neglected to _ask_ whether I wanted to be involved.” Next to him Anakin shifted, finally looking at least somewhat guilty.

“However, it seems that I’m committed.”

A soft sigh of relief was all that Anakin permitted himself, but Obi-Wan heard it nonetheless and turned slightly to give his partner a gentle smile.

_You didn’t think I would leave you to do this alone, did you?_

Anakin’s own smile looked a shade rueful, acknowledging the unspoken admonishment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First posted by Norcumi on 1 March 2015, in response to [hamelin-born's prompting](https://hamelin-born.tumblr.com/post/111548070802/do-you-ever-wish-these-two-had-just-decided-to).

**A few weeks later, Naboo**

“…Grandmaster Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan wasted a precious second to close his eyes and wince before trying to give the nervous young human at the door a smile.

Well. Perhaps an approximation of a smile, but there was so damned much paperwork and logistics to deal with. “Yes?”

The girl shuffled a little uneasily, so whatever it was, it was probably something significant. The local Naboo didn’t shrink from much of anything, even if they were overly polite.

“Um. Master Plo was hoping you could come talk to him in his office?”

He made a face. “Is Master Plo going to tell me something that will make me lose my temper? Again?”

She giggled a little. “Well, he did say that once I saw you off, I was to take my time finding Anakin.”

‘Anakin.’ Not Master Skywalker, or Knight Skywalker, or Skywalker _anything_. The informality was nice, even if it did still surprise him a little. He could see how Plo’s gravitas had earned the title from some of the locals, but he still could not get his head around being called ‘Grandmaster.’

“I see. Then you’d best amble off and pry him away from Padmé.”

She giggled again, waving to him as she scampered off.

_Well. Best see what new crisis has happened._

* * *

Plo was standing near his desk, _grinning_ down a packing crate.

“Do I want to know?”

Plo chuckled and raised a holo. “These arrived earlier. From Yoda.”

“It’s been almost a month; we knew this would happen. What does it say?”

“Nothing.”

Obi-Wan blinked and stared at the Kel Dor. “You’re going to have to explain that.” Who knew that having Anakin as a padawan and Qui-Gon Jinn as a master would be prefect preparation for these endless requirements of patience without resorting to drink or esoteric arts and crafts?

Plo tossed him the holo. “It contains a recording of approximately fives minutes of Yoda laughing. I think he might be trying to say something as well, but he does not manage anything coherent.”

Oh, another one of _those_ headaches. “Ah.” He tossed the holo back onto the table and nodded towards the crate. “That’s a rather large box for just a holo.”

He was persistently impressed at the range of emotion Plo could convey under the mask. He never used to think that the man could smirk. “I’m not going to like this very much, am I.” When all Plo did was step back from the crate, Obi-Wan sighed. “I’m taking that as a yes. If it bites or drips anything on me, I’m firing you.”

“That will only be the third time this week. I shall find some way to endure.”

He paused long enough to shoot the Kel Dor a nasty glare, then opened the crate.

“…you have _got_ to be kidding.” He hadn’t known a Kel Dor could snigger, either. “This came from _Yoda_?” The damned Kel Dor ducked out the door rather than answering. “You’re fired!” Obi-Wan hollered, hefting the frying pan out of the box. “Cody’ll see you to the door, you bastard!” He glared back down at Qui-Gon’s old cookware. Yoda’s sense of humor was never to be trusted.

He checked the crate to make sure there wasn’t some sort of message elsewhere, only to find some varnished wood further down. He carefully dug out a plaque meant to hang on a wall, brackets for the frying pan already attached. A bit of etched metal declared “For the New Order!” underneath.

Anakin came careening into the room. “Obi-Wan, we – What the hell?”

He snickered and hefted the pan. “I think this means Yoda quietly approves. Or at least doesn’t disapprove, and he wants to tease.”

Anakin blinked a few times, then shook his head. “Okay, great. Fantastic. We have bigger problems. Dooku just arrived waving a white flag and he wants to talk to _you_. He heard about the schism and I think he’s actually stupid enough to believe we’d want to fight _against_ the Republic now.”

Obi-Wan gaped. “Are you quite serious?”

“You think I’d joke about this? Tholme’s distracting him, T’ra and Ahsoka are getting the clones ready, and Vos is getting the padawans prepped for any droid attacks. I’m not sure where Plo is, but Wolffe is looking.”

He nodded. Tholme could talk anyone in circles for hours, so they had a bit of time before Dooku’s ego overpowered that. Tholme’s wife – and hadn’t _that_ been a shock, those two showing up, congratulating them on the schism, then demanding shared quarters since they were quite fed up hiding their marriage – was a capable commander. Vos might still be the moodiest bastard Obi-Wan had ever met, but brooding about things led to useful brooding protectively over things, and the padawans were mainly war orphans, padawans whose masters had died in battle thus leaving them in an unfortunate limbo. Like so many things, that was a matter perpetually left “for after the war.”

The more realistic padawans had found their way to Naboo as well.

Obi-Wan considered his options for a moment, then gave his padawan a wolfish grin and hefted the frying pan. “Padmé said we have a meeting hall. I suppose we should go mount this there. Perhaps introduce Dooku to the new way we do things around here.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First posted by Norcumi on 6 March 2015.

Dooku wasn’t sure if he should be impressed at Master Tholme’s obsession with architecture, or horrified that he’d once thought the simpering twit was a competent master. Well, perhaps this new Order they’d formed had helped rot the man’s mind.

Could well be the influence of the locals. The Naboo had never impressed him very much. Twittering on about harmony and –

The side door banged open, and at long last Obi-Wan Kenobi strode into the room. It was no surprise that he was playing at power games; ignoring Dooku to stroll over to the far – empty – wall that Tholme had spent a good five minutes rhapsodizing over the stonework.

“Hmm. Here, I think,” he declared, gesturing with –

“What the blazes?” Dooku couldn’t quite help himself, blurting out the question as he confirmed that yes, Kenobi was holding a _frying pan_.

Kenobi spun, a vaguely manic glint in his eyes. “Ah, Count Dooku!” He smiled with all the sincerity of an experienced politician and advanced upon him. Tholme took the opportunity to retreat to a corner like a well-trained flunky, whereas Skywalker strolled in, insolent as usual as he carried a wooden…thing.

“That wall, Anakin,” Kenobi declared, once again brandishing the pan towards the wall. “See what you can do with that.”

“Yes, Master,” the boy declared with such fake humility it could choke a gundark. For all that, he seemed intent enough on wandering over to mount the damn thing, whatever it was.

“I hear you’ve come to pay us a visit.”

“Indeed.” Dooku swung his eyes back to Kenobi. “I heard you finally decided a Schism was necessary.”

“Well, these things happen. Falling out with old friends, you know.” Kenobi stopped before him, feet planted firmly in a challenging stance. Had the man worn a lightsaber, Dooku might have been a touch concerned, but all he had on his person was that pan.

Very little of this was going how he had expected. “Yes. I find myself rather curious as to how far your Schism extended.” At Kenobi’s overly polite and curious look, Dooku started to pace. Tholme was still in his corner, taking some kind of report from – ah, now that was interesting. From the man’s former padawan, Vos. Skywalker had used the Force to mount what looked to be some kind of trophy plaque on the wall, that what could possibly fit in those brackets was beyond him. That boy was watching them with a disgruntled expression, arms crossed and fingers of the arm Dooku had taken tapping impatiently on his other forearm.

He spun to face Kenobi, who had followed to remain a few paces away. “Have you simply left the Jedi? Or have you left the Republic as well?”

Kenobi’s smile was thin and barely trying for humor. “Now really. Here we are, making a new home on a _Republic_ world –”

“Which has long had its sympathies for you, and any strays you might bring in. I recall what it was like, leaving the Order, and had I not had my own home to go to, I would have been quite adrift.”

Skywalker had bristled at the “strays” comment, as intended. Kenobi, however, simply rolled his eyes. “Oh spit it out already. I have a ridiculous amount of things to do today. What do you want?”

He pulled a regretful face, and shrugged as if it were no matter. “I had thought that perhaps Qui-Gon might have encouraged more…open-mindedness in you. I do know I tried to teach him better than this.” There was just the right touch of disappointment, never disdain, in his voice. “In the meantime, I am merely here to offer Serenno as an alternative home, should you or any of your people wish to travel to more appreciative climes.”

There was an odd silence as Kenobi stared at him, brows still raised in inquiry. Then of all things, the man shook his head. “Really? _That’s_ your play? That’s your grand scheme? Invoke my dead master – dead not too far from here, thank you very much for presuming that would tweak my heartstrings – and use a bit of Force suggestion to try to make me thing this was a good idea?”

Dooku blinked, gaping a little. There was no way Kenobi could have felt that! He could not have known –

Kenobi spun away as if to flounce off, only to sharply spin back, frying pan raised.

There was a sudden explosion along Dooku’s side.

* * *

The entire unending headache of this whole venture was worth the look on Dooku’s face as Obi-Wan entered the meeting hall with the frying pan in hand. Getting to actually _hit_ Dooku with it was worth doing it all over again. Anakin’s applause was merely icing on a lovely cake.

The Count was on the floor, clutching his arm – and oh, wasn’t it tempting to repay Geonosis and go for a leg as well. Somehow Obi-Wan restrained himself to tutting and shaking his head. “ _That_ was for trying to fuck with my mind. Do that again, and I shall do more than break your arm. Or ribs. Whatever it is that made such a lovely snapping noise.” He looked over as a smirking Tholme broke off communications with Vos. “What’s our status?”

“The commando droids sneaking out of his shuttle have been neutralized, and –” A faint explosion somewhere above in the skies of Naboo filtered down. “That should be the last of their air support being taken care of.”

Kenobi gave the man a polite nod, then glared down at Dooku. “Get the hell out of our home, and please be aware that next time, no white flags are going to save you.” He spun around, almost humming. With cleanup from a skirmish like this, none of his plans for the day were relevant anymore, and so he probably had quite a bit of spare time on his hands – especially if he delegated properly. He took a few steps away from Dooku, then used the Force to move the frying pan into the brackets.

Perhaps not the worst place for it at all. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First posted by Elenothar on 16 March 2015.

Anakin had been tapping his foot impatiently in front of Obi-Wan’s desk for ten minutes now and it was going on his last nerve.

“No, Anakin, I don’t have time to spar with you because you saddled me with this blasted job and I’m drowning in paperwork,” Obi-Wan gritted out past clenched teeth, closing his eyes. Force, he needed a drink. Strike that, he needed _ten_ drinks. Something strong. Something _really_ strong. The day spent getting blisteringly drunk after Yoda showed up had already dimmed to a distant memory, and of course his resignation from the damn job had lasted all of seven hours. Twelve years of Qui-Gon, ten years of Anakin, and now he got saddled with an entire order. Somewhere in the Force his old Master was surely laughing at him.

On second thought, the Force was probably laughing too.

He breathed in, breathed out again, and made a conscious effort to release his frustration into the Force. Immediately the pounding behind his temples eased.

When he opened his eyes again, Anakin was looking at him with a mixture of guilt, worry and weariness.

“I changed my mind,” Obi-Wan said, much more civilly. “I need a break.”

——-

Their current training dojo was only temporary, a larger, more accommodating one being built by busy Naboo and Jedi hands, but it would do for their current purpose.

Obi-Wan rid himself of his cloak and turned towards Anakin, a challenging eyebrow raised high on his forehead. Anakin grinned in acceptance of the challenge, and advanced.

Two minutes later, Anakin was flat on his face, his right arm twisted painfully behind his back.

“Master,” Anakin wheezed, “you’ve been holding out on me.”

Obi-Wan looked down at him smugly, but released his grip as Anakin’s free hand tapped the ground in the universal sign of capitulation. “Maybe I’m just more motivated to kick your ass right now.”

Anakin gave him a shit-eating grin. “If I’d known all I needed to do to get you to really fight was to make you really, really annoyed I’d have tried that approach ages ago.”

“You _did_ spend the last ten years trying to do that. Don’t take credit for my unending patience with your antics.”

Giving Anakin a hand up, Obi-Wan fell back into an opening position, hands open and in front of him and beckoned.

“Now, why don’t you put some real effort into this.” He smirked. “Unless that was all you got?”

Anakin’s affronted expression was well-worth the gruelling session that followed.

*

The first time Obi-Wan caught a Padawan standing in front of the newly mounted ‘Frying Pan of Freedom and Justice’ muttering under her breath, he didn’t think much of it. The story of how their new Grandmaster had whacked Dooku one had spread like wildfire and delighted adult and child Jedi alike after all.

He also hadn’t been too concerned with the growing number of Jedi running around with cooking implements attached to their belts now – had even been vaguely impressed with Knight Vos’ collapsible one.

Then he witnessed a screaming match between two younglings over whose frying pan was better and more like the Grandmaster’s, and realized that somewhere along the lines he’d made a terrible mistake. One might debate whether their little group could still be named Jedi, but he certainly wasn’t keen on it being renamed ‘Order of the Frying Pan’. It was far too undignified for one thing.

The next time he found a group of Padawans huddled around the frying pan display, young voices hushed and serious as various fingers pointed out particularly dented spots, he cleared his throat loudly.

“What is this, Padawans?”

Four small heads turned quickly enough for Obi-Wan’s neck to twinge in sympathy.

“Um…”

The oldest of the Padawans, who’d been all but shoved in front of the group by everyone else, squirmed.

Obi-Wan raised a brow. “Yes?”

“It’s our assignment, Master,” he mumbled out in a rush, shuffling his feet a little. “There’s a standing assignment for all Padawans to try and determine where and by whom the Grandmaster’s frying pan was crafted.”

Obi-Wan almost choked on his invisible double-take. _What in the Force’s name_?

“And who exactly gave you this assignment?” he asked, brows drawing together suspiciously.

The Padawans shared a look, and clearly unanimously decided that throwing the mysterious teacher under the speeder was the better part of valour in this case. “Padawan Tano, Master.”

Obi-Wan sighed. Of course – if it wasn’t Anakin making trouble or attempting to upend buckets of water over his head, it was his equally troublesome Padawan.

“I see,” he said out loud, and shook his head. “I wish you luck, Padawans.”

The little ones exchanged confused glances.

“I thought there was no luck, Master?” one of them ventured.

“Exactly.”

Obi-Wan turned to go.

“Oh, and Padawans? While at times it is good and proper to let someone else speak for you in deference to their wisdom, I would not recommend employing that strategy when explaining yourself to Masters.”

A chorus of sheepish ‘Yes, Master’s followed him out of the meeting hall. Only once outside and out of earshot, did he allow himself to chortle quietly. Determine the origin of the frying pan indeed. 

_If only they knew their precious pan was found by Qui-Gon on a rubbish heap decades ago_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First posted by Norcumi on March 2 2015, in response an ask:
> 
> [alyyks](https://alyyks.tumblr.com/) asked: For the prompts: how about "clones and breakfast foods"? And the terrible fights breakfast foods cause, especially with Jedi thrown in the mix? (it's starting to sound like a Frying Pan prompt actually)

The mess hall was disturbingly quiet. Obi-Wan rubbed his forehead, still struggling to get his head around too many new factors in his life. Naboo – via Padmé – had gifted them with a fairly large building, _not_ a temple, thank you very much. The whole holier than every being, above the rest of the universe crap had to go. They were Jedi, not saints incarnate.

Or…well…whatever they were. The name thing might need some work.

Obi-Wan entered the mess hall, not surprised that even as early as he was, there were a few clones hanging about the back of the room. He blinked and slowed as he approached the small crew of local Naboo who were serving up food.

All the clones were clustered at the _back_ of the mess hall, and not a one of them had food. They were in fact giving the Naboo cautiously suspicious looks. He tried to make a course correction look casual, sauntering up to the mix of 212th and 501st. “Good morning.”

“General.” One of his men stepped away from the group, sidling closer while still watching the Naboo as if they might turn into commando droids at any moment. “We…couldn’t find the Mess.”

 _What._ He checked the Force, making sure the feel of the Sergeant matched who he thought it was. “Brick, this _is_ the Mess Hall.”

“Not for us troopers.” At the blank look, Brick rolled his eyes. “Sir…” The clone pointed towards the food line. “Those aren’t ration packs.”

He couldn’t stop himself in time. “Ration packs are disgusting.” The clones all looked at him like he were a little mad, but all things considered, he was starting to get used to that. “Why are you expecting ration packs?”

Gods, why did he keep getting looks like that? He was rather grateful that he could feel Plo approaching down the corridor – the Kel Dor might not eat human compatible food, but he tended to linger in eating areas on occasion for the social aspects of meals.

Obi-Wan was looking forward to having the backup.

“Be…cause that’s what’s dispensed in the Mess? Sure, it’s sometimes plated up nice and all, but that? That is _not_ ration packs they’re serving.”

A hell of a headache was starting to build up behind his eyes. Obi-Wan took a moment to breathe, trying to recall the last time he’d eaten with clones. In the field, everyone was on ration packs or bars. On transports, Jedi had their own tiny galley, on the rare occasions they were able to escape meals with the Admiral and other naval officers.

A terrible suspicion settled in behind his headache. “Brick? Are you telling me the GAR keeps its clonetroopers on rations _all the time_?”

He must not have had as level a tone as he thought. The trooper pulled back a little. “Well…yes. Proper nutritional balance and all that.”

Obi-Wan waited a few seconds, then raised his voice just a little. “Master Plo?”

His fellow former Jedi hurried closer. “Yes?”

“Do you think our Council codes have been revoked yet?”

He could feel the trepidation in the Force. “Kenobi, what are –”

“That’s apparently _Grandmaster_ Kenobi,” he declared, because gods take it, if they were going to stick him with the damned title and the fucking ridiculous position, he was bloody well going to use it. He raised his com, tapping in the codes for a local override to bounce the signal right to Coruscant. It technically was only to be used for emergencies, under the assumption that if a Councilor were in a desperate enough situation to hijack multiple communication relays, it would be for matters of great import.

Obi-Wan was a little surprised that it worked. The signal was lousy, but the projector sent up the figure of an irate Mace Windu, still in sleepwear. “What the – _Kenobi?_ ”

“ _Mace Windu, are you out of what fucking little mind the gods deemed to grant you? We’ve got soldiers dying by the hundreds, brave men who did not ask to be put in this damned war of Dooku’s, and we’re keeping them on RATIONS?_ ” The clones flinched back from the roar, Plo steepled his hands with a long suffering expression, and Mace goggled at him. “ _You don’t need a damned gourmet chef on every battlecruiser, just let your soldiers have some fucking variety!_ ”

“The _hell_ are you going on about?”

“Get the _fuck_ out of the Temple more often. Visit the clone’s mess hall sometime, eat the damn food with them, then and _only_ then do you get to contact me again and bitch about this!”

Obi-Wan snapped the connection shut, taking one more breath and forcing his shoulders level. Plo was conspicuously not looking at him. The troopers – along with some new arrivals – were gaping at him somewhere between awe and something that was probably related to fetching a healer.

He turned back to Brick. “Sergeant.”

“Sir!” The man practically saluted.

“I am getting some food, and you are coming with me. You’ve a mission to try the damn food, and it’s fine if you don’t like it. I’m sure we can scrounge up some ration packs if you’d like, but only after experimenting.” Obi-Wan raised his voice a little. “That goes for every trooper in hearing range, and any others that come into the Mess Hall. I expect you to pass the word on.”

As he headed over to the impressed looking Naboo, he could hear some of the troopers whispering behind him to each other. “So what the hell d’you do if you _don’t_ like it?”

Obi-Wan grinned. “Throw it. If you see Anakin, then make _sure_ to aim for him.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First posted by Norcumi on 3/06/2015 in response to an anonymous ask: 
> 
> If you still taking prompts, how about master Yoda joining Grand Jedi Order of the Frying Pan? :)

Obi-Wan hurried down the hallway, running through his schedule in an attempt to find some space in it for sparring. So many meetings,organizational folderol, and –

He blinked and stopped walking. Then he turned and walked back half a corridor. There was a balcony there, open to the sunlight and breezes. They’d been using it as a meditation area, and it looked as if someone was doing just that.

Obi-Wan stared, then put his face in a palm. This. Was. Not. Happening.

He peeked out between his fingers, and he sighed.

No, no apparently it was. His life had indeed gotten this strange.

_All right, Grandmaster Kenobi. Here is a problem. Deal with it._ He took in a deep breath, and walked onto the balcony. The seated figure remained in a meditative pose, serene and feeling utterly at peace in the Force. Obi-Wan walked right up to him and crossed his arms. “Master Yoda,” he declared dryly as possible. “This is quite a surprise. To what do we owe the honor?”

The small master opened his eyes and smiled up at Obi-Wan, looking innocent as a crecheling. Probably one who had just raided a stash of cookies somewhere. “Honor? What honor is this? Merely meditating, I am.”

“Yes, I see that. However I do find it rather odd that you’re not doing so at, say, the Jedi Temple. On Coruscant.”

“Oh? And expect me there, why do you?”

_Why_ was everyone quite so determined to give him a headache? “Because you’re a Jedi, perhaps? As compared to us poor heathens?”

Yoda actually looked affronted. “Retired from the Jedi I have. Joined the new Order I have decided to.”

“…the new Order,” he repeated faintly, not sure he was hearing right, or if he were hallucinating. Either were quite possible by now.

“Indeed!” Gods help him, Yoda was _grinning_ far too widely. “Even the traditional weapon I have taken up!” When Obi-Wan stared blankly at him, Yoda reached down towards the hip opposite where he normally kept his lightsaber. The old master giggled and brandished a small frying pan he apparently now kept on his belt.

Obi-Wan stared.

Yoda waggled the pan back and forth a little, not even trying to hide his giggles.

Obi-Wan turned and walked out to find the nearest bar.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First posted by Norcumi on 3/08/2015, in response to a prompt by Elenothar: 
> 
> Anakin and Obi-Wan: in a a bar getting drunk (reasons are up to you)

“Sooo.”Anakin slid into the booth opposite Obi-Wan, who gave him a rather baleful look. “I hear you’re getting drunk.”

“Not nearly drunk enough. Not yet, at least.” Obi-Wan grumbled, taking another swig of something that was electric green and barely liquid.

“Uh huh. Shouldn’t take too long with that.” Anakin eyed the drink before signaling a waitress to bring him something more conventional. By the time she returned, Obi-Wan had resorted to staring into his glass, moodily swirling his drink. “So. What’s going on?”

“You heard I was drinking here but not why?”

“Pretty much.”

“Hm.”

Anakin waited, sipping his own drink. When he was halfway through it, Obi-Wan was on his third and not looking like he was going to slow down any time soon.

Obi-Wan cracked first, glaring up from his drink. “That’s it then? One attempt to ask, then silence? Will wonders never cease.”

He shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “I thought I might try something new.”

Obi-Wan almost snorted alcohol up his nose. Once he’d made it past a coughing fit, he glared at Anakin. “And how is that going for you?”

“Seems to work pretty well so far!” He was seriously starting to wonder how many spit-takes he could almost get his master to make, but Obi-Wan put the drink down.

“Anakin.”

Ah, there it was, the almost-disappointed, vaguely scolding tone that Obi-Wan had perfected within a week of Anakin becoming his padawan. “Yes?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “What do you _want_?”

“Why are you here, in the process of getting very, very drunk?”

His master glared back down at his drink. “Yoda showed up.”

Anakin sat on the immediate near-panic that summoned. “Oh yeah? What does he want?”

“To join.”

He stopped, glass mid-way to his mouth. Then he took a sharp chug. “Yoda wants to _join_?”

“Actually, he seems to think that he _has_ joined.” Obi-Wan gave him a sour look. “He has our traditional weapon even.”

This time he took a swig to avoid having to say anything. Anakin was well aware he’d be owing Obi-Wan forever for the whole frying pan thing, but it had clearly been _good_ for his master, not to mention everyone else that had joined up. Their new Order felt _comfortable_ , safe without being coddling, humane without cold distance. Sure, Obi-Wan bitched incessantly about how much work it all was, but it was clear how quick the man was to surrender to the hugs and friendly contact that was the new norm.

You just had to put up with a _lot_ of bitching. Anakin hoped that would clear out in time, but he wasn’t quite willing to put down credits on it.

“Well, that’s _good_ , right? Yoda’s got some pull, and with his reputation –”

“I give it no more than two weeks before Mace shows up.”

Anakin took another drink. “Looking for Yoda?”

“Looking to join, and so help me if _he_ has a frying pan I’m quitting and using every last frying pan in the building to knock some sense into _all_ of you idiots.”

“…That sounds fair.” Anakin finished off his drink, leaning back in the booth. “Why do you think _Mace_ of all beings would join?”

Obi-Wan emptied his glass, motioning the waitress for another round for them both. “He’s not going to want to wrangle all those idiots without Yoda around to at least complain at. Consider it a kind of retirement; only as much bureaucracy as I can convince him to take on, a different way of doing things, and if he does it quietly enough, then no one’s going to bother him for awhile in case he’s doing…” Obi-Wan waved a hand vaguely in the air. “Who the hell knows what.”

Anakin stared at him, grabbed his new drink from the waitress, and finished it off. “Shit. Just how many Council members do you think we’re going to get?”

“Getting them isn’t my concern, having to comb the bushes everyday to see who’s popped up is.”

“You can’t be serious.” He got a death glare for that. “What, you really think you’re just going to turn a corner and stumble over Council members?”

“Need a sign,” Obi-Wan declared, leaning back and sipping on his drink. “‘No more than one ex-Jedi admitted a day.’ Then make you enforce it.”

Anakin snickered and shook his head. “ _Now_ you’re drunk.”

His master flashed him a grin and shrugged. “Not yet, but I’m getting there. C’mon, you’ve got some catching up to do, and if I’m blowing my day in a bar, so are you.”

Anakin saluted him with his drink, tossing it back and carefully setting the glass on the table. “Another day you’ve quit?”

“Eh, those idiots will hire me back. They keep doing it for Force knows what reason.”

“No one else wants the job.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

Anakin grinned and raised a new glass. “How much _did_ you tip the waitress?”

He got a sharp grin in return. “Use of Order funds means either you take over financial duties, or mind your own business.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Better watch out, Master. All that power’s going to your head.”

“What power? I quit, didn’t you hear?”

“Yeah, yeah, when you really mean it, _then_ tell me.”

He was surprised at the soft grin he got for that. Obi-Wan shook his head. “Anakin, the day I mean that, I’ll be kidnapping _you_ via frying pan.”

Anakin laughed and rapped his glass against Obi-Wan’s. “Then here’s to coups and frying pans.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First posted by Norcumi on 4/10/2015, in response to an anonymous prompt: 
> 
> If you're still taking prompts and not too busy with other stuff, can I ask for baby Luke and Leia in the Frying Pan verse learning the story of how the Order was founded from Anakin/Ahsoka while Obi-Wan hits his head repeatedly against something in the background? (Or something along those lines?)

Ahsoka picks up a burbling Luke, grinning and booping him on the nose. “Found you!” The infant doesn’t even really know he’s been involved in a game of hide and find, but since she’s supposed to be caring for the twins this evening, that doesn’t matter to her. A Jedi Knight – of the Old or New Order – does not shy away from her duties.

She reaches out with the Force, picking up Leia who’s been crawling over towards an escape through the door. “No.”

Leia squalls in protest, and Ahsoka finds herself busy with baby juggling, then diaper duty, then trying to keep the twins amused with Force levitated blocks.

By this point, the argument between Obi-Wan and Anakin in the next room has gotten loud enough that there is no pretending she can’t hear them.

“Seriously, one of these days people are going to take it seriously when you say you’ve quit.”

“That’s why I’ve made it clear, I’m _retiring_!”

“Obi-Wan –”

“Anakin, I have had quite enough of running this madhouse, and this _was_ your idea in the first place –”

“So!” Ahsoka declares brightly at the younglings, trying to be quiet but talk over the conversation anyways. Bad enough that Leia has clearly picked up on her father’s mood and looks like she’s about to cry; if it gets any louder then Ahsoka is going to have more than just Anakin and Obi-Wan being obnoxious in the apartment. “I think it’s story time!”

She quickly settles the twins down, one on each side of her lap, though thankfully only Leia ends up trying to catch and eat a headtail. “Once upon a time, the Jedi Order was in a lot of trouble.” Luke keeps gazing up at her with serious, wide eyes, looking like he actually understands her words even at his young age.

“They had lost touch with their roots, and the nature of their Order. They locked themselves away from their emotions, their care for others, and most of the universe.”

“You haven’t even held the position for ten years, how can you retire?”

“Just because Yoda has held positions for centuries doesn’t mean the rest of us should!”

Ahsoka clears her throat. “This got worse and worse, until the Jedi got caught up in a huge war, raging across the galaxy.”

“This isn’t about Yoda, it’s about you!”

“No, once again you’re avoiding the meat of the matter. This argument is about you, and your continued avoidance of responsibility!”

“I’ve got two younglings in there, tell me how I’m avoiding responsibility!”

“Birth control, but that’s –”

“ _Then_ several Jedi decided they needed to do something about this,” she continues, trying to be a little louder without disturbing the kids.

Whoops. The conversation in the living area abruptly dies, so she probably was too loud. _Oh well_ , she stubbornly thinks, snuggling the kids closer. It’s not _her_ fault those two idiots really ought to be having the conversation elsewhere. “So one day, Knight Skywalker and his brave Padawan Tano went to talk to their friend, Master Kenobi. He was Knight Skywalker’s old teacher, and he was experienced and sometimes very wise.”

There’s a sound that might be a snicker, or someone thumping something against the wall. Maybe both.

“But no matter how much they talked, they could not come to any decisions about the future of the Jedi. Master Kenobi was fond of the Jedi, even if he did admit they seemed to have lost their way.”

Anakin snickers quietly. “Just took him a few months,” he says, muffled and still apparently talking to Obi-Wan.

“ _Do_ shut up.”

“So in a moment of desperation, Knight Skywalker carried out the plan he and his Padawan had crafted earlier.”

“Oh, sweet Force no,” Obi-Wan mutters, and she can practically hear him face-palming through the wall.

“‘Crafted’ might be a bit of an overstatement.”

“You mean you went ‘if we had to subdue Obi-Wan, what would you use so the Force wouldn’t warn him?’ Or were you more subtle than that?”

Ahsoka’s voice rises a little again. “He grabbed the frying pan that Master Kenobi’s Master had once owned, and used it to distract him.”

“How many twisted nouns were in that sentence?”

“Obi-Wan, you can’t do better, shut up.”

Ahsoka rolls her eyes and adjusts her hold on the twins. Leia is either finally content enough, or so bored, that she’s almost asleep. She’s no longer gumming at Ahsoka’s headtails; instead she’s just drooling on them and nearly at the stage of teeny baby snores. Luke is settled back, eyes slit like a contented cat’s, and the Togruta takes that as a good sign.

“Knight Skywalker and Padawan Tano took Master Kenobi with them away from the Jedi, and together they built up a new Order.”

“Under great protest.”

“Obi-Wan!”

“They drew many Jedi to them, and some of the great names of the old Order came over and brought their own frying pans, in tribute and memory of the symbol of the Great Schism.”

Obi-Wan groans. “I do hope that hasn’t spread as official history.”

“The fact that you don’t think it has leaves me rather disappointed.”

She rolls her eyes, then looks down. Luke’s eyes are closed, and if he’s not asleep it’ll happen soon enough. His sister is the troublemaker, and Leia finally _is_ snoring. Mission almost accomplished. Ahsoka carefully levitates the twins over to their crib, and then she walks quietly to the door, still talking. “Between the new Order, and the old one, the Jedi continued to do good works in the galaxy, and under the leadership of Grandmaster Kenobi, they find that life is strange, but good.” She slips out the door and leans against the wall, arms crossed and one brow raised.

Anakin smirks back at her, shaking his head. “You obviously didn’t learn subtlety from me.”

“No, of course not.” She gives her master a look, making it clear that as much as he’s teasing about her lack of subtly, she knows he’s a billion times worse than she is. “So you can’t blame me for being subtle enough that you don’t even notice it.”

Anakin rolls his eyes and gives Obi-Wan a look asking for help, but the man just grins and holds up his hands. “Don’t look at me. I was responsible for you, and look how that turned out.” Despite the dryness to his tone, the strained lines on his face have eased, and she has to wonder if it was getting the argument out of his system that helped, or that she might somehow have actually given him some food for thought about this retirement silliness.

“Then I guess that makes it Plo’s fault,” Anakin declares, smirking because Master Plo has gleefully taken on the role of Obi-Wan’s regular “scape-goat,” so long as none of them actually mean anything by it.

“Have you fired him yet this week?” Ahsoka has to ask, because her credits this week are riding on a higher number.

“Only the once. This makes for a good excuse, though.”

“One of these days, Cody’s going to get tired of escorting him out of the building,” Anakin says with a grin, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

“I highly doubt that. He insists it makes for a good training exercise, though I’m not sure the poor bastards on the top floor appreciate it.”

That gets an actual sigh out of her old Master. “I’ll have a talk with him. Before you fire him again.”

“Thank you, Padawan.” Obi-Wan looks genuinely relieved and appreciative, and with that more relaxed. “I’ll see if I can’t convince Cody to just escort him outside and right to a bar this time.”

She can’t resist poking a little. “You could just not fire him again, you know.”

“Now Ahsoka. Where would the fun in that be?”

She grins and rolls her eyes. “I keep forgetting that you insist being the Grand Master should be fun.”

“Hey, if you _do_ retire and force me into taking on your position –”

“Which is a _horrible_ idea, by the way,” Ahsoka adds.

Anakin ignores her and keeps grinning at Obi-Wan. “– does that mean I get to make sure it really _is_ fun for me?”

Obi-Wan keeps looking between the two, then he relents to the actual question. “You need to step up and try more desk work,” he declares, and Ahsoka isn’t entirely sure which of them he’s talking to. “But fine. I’ll just quit this week.”

Ahsoka whoops quietly and tackles them both in a hug, Anakin joining in a moment later. Obi-Wan just snickers and hugs them back, muttering about horrible life choices.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assorted May the Fourth headcanons posted by Norcumi in 2015 and 2016.

**From Anon: So can I poke you for some clone frying pan verse? We know Cody found his calling as a bouncer but what about the rest?**

Cody is Obi-Wan’s head bouncer, head of security, drinking buddy, and I think, what the hell, given enough time I think they might say the hell with it and jump in bed together. I’ve been wanting to have more Cody and Obi-Wan feels, and it fits here.

Rex is Anakin’s main assistant, Cody’s other drinking buddy, and dude what likes going out on actual missions. He has an honorary frying pan (gift from Anakin, don’t ask). Ahsoka and Anakin enjoy the hell out of teaching younglings and basically Gettin’ Shit Done.

Fives and Tup are alive, and when Tup’s chip starts to degenerate, since there’s no “real” Jedi around, he seems to be having an Issue, so the local medics scan him thoroughly, find the chip, and remove it. Then there’s a sudden medical boom, because ALL the clones WILL be getting their chips removed.

Brick, mentioned in the breakfast food things, ends up in the starfighter squadrons, and spends a lot of time ending up working with Tholme. Given the man’s newfound love of flying, he takes on a new name. 

* * *

  1. As hilarious as Anakin finds the development of the frying pan obsession, he’s one of the holdouts on carrying one around. This means EVERY holiday or excuse, folks get him one. This includes Padmé getting him a small ornament style one as a joke their next anniversary, and real frying pans from everyone else ALL THE TIME.He eventually ends up regifting them, then when that doesn’t work, donating them to any place that seems reasonable.
  2. Naboo develops a slightly terrifying range of frying pan artisans. At first, no one takes it seriously – not even, or perhaps especially the crafters – but over time it becomes a matter of local pride, and Srs Bznss.
  3. Mace did indeed defect in the timeframe Obi-Wan estimated. When he was found wandering the halls of the new Order’s building, Obi-Wan promptly fetched THE frying pan, stalked up to Mace, and lightly clonked him on the head. No one has any clear idea of the specific reasons, but Mace just gave him a Look, drew his own frying pan, and offered to duel. They went and got drunk instead.
  4. A prosperous business quickly builds up of discreet drinking establishments within easy walking distance of the Order’s headquarters. No, that is not all funded by Obi-Wan.



  1. Plo adores getting fired. It’s like Super Casual Friday levels of fun, only with more being chased up onto the roof.
  2. Cody and Wolffe also love it. Wolffe has started setting up traps and assorted surprises for his General (who appreciates ANY kind of a challenge), and Cody mainly likes the opportunity to train folks.
  3. The Order’s building has rooms for its inhabitants all over. The ones on the upper floor have the nicest views, some of the poshest ‘freshers, and irregular bouts of clone troopers thundering overhead, yelling and firing blasters.
  4. The last time Obi-Wan fired Plo after midnight, another coup was threatened. Plo was the one to negotiate peace terms, promising to do his best not to get fired for a whole two weeks, and to keep things to a dull roar and the basements for awhile.



  1. Vos acts like he hates everyone, and is 500% done with everything, with a dose of rage, but he LOVES the new Order, and will find ways to make life hell for anyone who tries to protest that this isn’t a Proper Way.
  2. Tholme and T’ra are seriously considering having a kid. This terrifies EVERYONE.
  3. Cody got fed up bar hopping to get Obi-Wan back for vital matters, so he started having the front door/gate page him when Obi-Wan quits. When that happens, he goes and follows his General out, and is basically prepared to be the designated driver.
  4. It took Cody almost a month to realize that the reason they were basically going for long walks in the nearest parks wasn’t Obi-Wan being a bastard, but that sometimes the man would only be going to bars when he wanted/was willing to be found. Cody wasn’t sure at that point if he wanted to congratulate the man for being a sneaky sunuvabitch, or chewing him out for making Cody think that liver failure might be a problem in the not-too-distant-future.



  1. It’s after one of those long walks that Obi-Wan and Cody end up going to ground somewhere – maybe it’s the roof, quiet without Plo being an ass today, and so rife with traps that only the idiotic or those in the know can safely make it all the way up. Maybe it’s Obi-Wan’s quarters, or possibly they ducked into Cody’s because it was the only place they could reasonably hide from Important Diplomatic Shit. Wherever they are, they’re sitting and having a nice quiet moment, and Cody realizes something and just goes still. Given the way the damn Jedi is watching him, Obi-Wan’s known it for some time. Cody facepalms. “How long have you been quitting to go on dates?” When Obi-Wan admits he doesn’t exactly know – but it’s probably been awhile, and it’s not like it’s EVERY time – Cody gives him a look. “I’m not that kind of clone, sir. Fucking ask me, or it’s just gonna be another afternoon of making sure the boss doesn’t drown himself in a koi pond or some Corellian alcohol.”
  2. It’s not quite a week later when Obi-Wan is knocking on Cody’s door and asking if he wants to go for drinks. “You quit?” “No.” “Okay then.”
  3. Everyone agrees that the two of them are the most awkward, adorable dorks ever. This means anyone getting in the way of potential romantic encounters has more than half the New Order smacking them with a frying pan – possibly literally.
  4. Rex seems ace in this universe. Possibly he’s not, and likes casually dating, but I think ace?



  1. Very tentatively, I’m sidling up to the notion of Plo and Wolffe as some kind of queer-platonic item. That hasn’t set in strongly, but it’s sitting there looking at me.
  2. Rex meanwhile has settled quite comfortably into being ace, aro, and endlessly amused by the shenanigans of the sometimes very oblivious friends and family around him.
  3. Since this is before Barriss-goes-crackers, I think when she shows up Padmé takes one look at the poor girl and then escorts her off to the nearest mind healers. This starts a trend amongst the new Order. MIND HEALERS FOR EVERYONE.
  4. The twins get frying pans from some joker every year for their birthday. Someone always thinks it’s a cute idea. Padmé thinks it’s hilarious, Anakin just tosses his hands in the air and doesn’t say anything.



  1. There’s a friendly split in the new Order (…which really does need a name one of these days) about the utility of one’s frying pan. Some say it’s fine and good to use it to actually cook, others think it’s meant to be kept more pristine.
  2. The actual cooks think you shouldn’t be clobbering idiots in the face with something you want to prep food in later on the same day.
  3. Obi-Wan refuses to weigh in on the matter.
  4. If Anakin is asked, there is a tirade about how. Very. MANY frying pans he has, and which is best used for what, and basically he keeps going until the idiot turns tail, lesson learned and usually willing to spread the story enough that it’s awhile before someone else bugs him.



  1. Padmé is actually startled to realize one day that she’s a member of the Order. Sure, she’s gotten a bunch of frying pans, but that’s just…what they all do now. Right?
  2. Yoda probably is to blame for that.
  3. Barrel just insisted that he eventually takes up cooking lessons. Doesn’t bother carrying around a frying pan – that is not the use intended for cooking implements.
  4. A fad fails to catch hold of teeny frying pan jewelry – necklace pendents, earrings, and the like. The clones don’t see the utility of that, and the former Jedi don’t tend to be in to that sort of thing.



* * *

**Some Frying Pan AU (the 1st time non-Jedi visit the new temple and decide they wanna study too)** \-- from [mamajosrefuge](https://mamajosrefuge.tumblr.com/)

Wow. First non-Jedi to join up – that’s not sort of this integrated by osmosis type from the local Naboo working the place – is some quiet Gungan, on her first trip to Theed. She’s heard all the stories, about how the blockade became the war for Naboo. She saw the holo casts of the Clone Wars, seen specials about the Jedi and their clones.

They give _tours_ of this Temple. She listens to it all, lurking behind amused natives and some other visitors, and she watches. She sees how the clones joke and roughhouse with their Jedi, how there is respect behind even the sassing that is exchanged with the local workers – and it is always an exchange, never one sided or a power dynamic. She watches, absolutely breathless, as Jedi spar in a gym with lightsabers that crackle on lowest setting, and most of them still gigglingly carry a pan at their hip, or back, or whatever is species appropriate. A handful, sparring together on the far side, wield both, and they giggle their way through a confused explanation to a curious Gand that this is _Jar Ki pan_ , a specialty of the Order. When that descends into some spectacularly awful food and cooking puns, the Gand wanders off – but the Gungan watches. As the tour breaks up in the atrium, she steps aside, looking over the clones for one who seems like he won’t…won’t mind a stupid question.

When she asks how one can join, he just blinks at her for a long moment. Thank the gods, he doesn’t laugh, though he looks at her oddly before sharing a kind smile and asking if she’d like to talk to a Master Koon.

When she’s introduced to Grand Master Kenobi later that day, she can see emotions struggling across his face – but as Master Koon said, it ends with a gentle, kind welcome; a resigned look at the frying pan Master Koon personally gave her; and a few tired giggles that don’t seem to be _at_ her.

**Author's Note:**

> ThisGreySilhouette has also done art for this! Located [here on tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/thisgreysilhouette/113903837381)!


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